Jack's Lament Quotes

Of all human lamentations, without doubt, the most common is if only I had known. But we can't know, and so days of death and fire so often begin no differently than those of love and warmth.

the old lament he had heard from the first enlisted sailors he had commanded. Why is there never enough time to do it right but always enough time to do it over?

He made so many promises,” said the deeply disappointed Obama acolyte Barbara Walters five years into the presidency. “We thought that he was going to be . . . the next messiah.” The messiah he was clearly not. He was not even an honest man. Lamented Walters, “People feel very disappointed because they expected more.

Suspiro y me muevo a estudiar los carteles de películas: el Sr. Darcy con su mano en la mejilla de Elizabeth hace nada por mí, más que querer escupir. Puede ser que la ame, pero durante toda su vida, Sr. Darcy quiso ser un desgraciado irritable. Edward Cullen, con sus brazos alrededor de Bella protectoramente mientras Jacob mira hacia ellos, me hace querer vomitar. ¿Y ellos llamaron a su bebe Renesme? POR FAVOR. Jack y Rose del Titanic me tienen apretando los puños. Rose debió abandonarlo ese día. Si lo hubiera hecho, podrían haber llegado a la balsa salvavidas. Romeo y Julieta se ven como idiotas para mí ahora. Ellos sabían que no funcionaria. Romeo nunca debería haber vuelto a su balcón. Fue su estúpida culpa. Él lo sabía. Si él simplemente no hubiera intentado, ambos habrían vivido. ¿Y quién bebe estúpido veneno para resolver sus problemas? Lamentable. Patético. Todos ellos.

If you want people to believe in you, you have to know your own worth.

If this new breed of activist urged Obama to hammer away at the Constitution, old-school civil libertarians lamented its demolition. The longtime Village Voice columnist Nat Hentoff had fought many a battle for civil liberties and had scars enough to speak his mind. “Apparently he doesn’t give one damn about the separation of powers.” said Hentoff of Obama after the president’s “pen and phone” remarks. “Never before in our history has a president done these things.

A simple kiss between a rag doll and a Pumpkin King. And perhaps the beginning of their most amazing adventure yet. Not in another world far away this time, but right here, right now, just the two of them, silhouetted in the moonlight on top of Spiral Hill. As if it was simply meant to be.

He'd found a sweet-water stream that I drank from, and for dinner we found winkles that we ate baked on stones. We watched the sun set like a peach on the sea, making plans on how we might live till a ship called by. Next we made a better camp beside a river and had ourselves a pretty bathing pool all bordered with ferns; lovely it was, with marvelous red parrots chasing through the trees. Our home was a hut made of branches thatched with flat leaves, a right cozy place to sleep in. We had fat birds that Jack snared for our dinner, and made fire using a shard of looking glass I found in my pocket. We had lost the compass in the water, but didn't lament it. I roasted fish and winkles in the embers. For entertainment we even had Jack's penny whistle. It was a paradise, it was." "You loved him," her mistress said softly, as her pencil resumed its hissing across the paper. Peg fought a choking feeling in her chest. Aye, she had loved him- a damned sight more than this woman could ever know. "He loved me like his own breath," she said, in a voice that was dangerously plaintive. "He said he thanked God for the day he met me." Peg's eyes brimmed full; she was as weak as water. The rest of her tale stuck in her throat like a fishbone. Mrs. Croxon murmured that Peg might be released from her pose. Peg stared into space, again seeing Jack's face, so fierce and true. He had looked down so gently on her pitiful self; on her bruises and her bony body dressed in salt-hard rags. His blue eyes had met hers like a beacon shining on her naked soul. "I see past your always acting the tough girl," he insisted with boyish stubbornness. "I'll be taking care of you now. So that's settled." And she'd thought to herself, so this is it, girl. All them love stories, all them ballads that you always thought were a load of old tripe- love has found you out, and here you are. Mrs. Croxon returned with a glass of water, and Peg drank greedily. She forced herself to continue with self-mocking gusto. "When we lay down together in our grass house we whispered vows to stay true for ever and a day. We took pleasure from each other's bodies, and I can tell you, mistress, he were no green youth, but all grown man. So we were man and wife before God- and that's the truth." She faced out Mrs. Croxon with a bold stare. "You probably think such as me don't love so strong and tender, but I loved Jack Pierce like we was both put on earth just to find each other. And that night I made a wish," Peg said, raising herself as if from a trance, "a foolish wish it were- that me and Jack might never be rescued. That the rotten world would just leave us be.

Think about what pleases you, not just them." She paused, then added softly. "Even the Pumpkin King has a right to be happy." Jack nodded slowly, for a moment seeming lost in thought. Then he gave her a shy smile. "You know," he said thoughtfully. "We should talk more often, you and I." Sally's breath caught in her throat as Jack met her eyes with his own. She'd never seen them so close up, she realized wildly. Or noticed how dark and deep they were. She felt a shiver down her back, not entirely unpleasant. "I'd like that," she replied, her voice barely over a whisper. "I'd like that a lot." They fell into silence. Not an awkward silence, like the kind that came when she was having dinner with Dr. Finkelstein and ran out of polite things to say, but rather something almost comforting. As if they were somehow sharing a precious moment beyond words, side by side, under the bright orange Halloween moon. It was funny, Sally thought. If someone had told her yesterday she'd be out here on Halloween night, staring into the eyes of the Pumpkin King, she'd never have believed it. Up until now, they'd seemed worlds apart. But she'd seen another side of Jack tonight. And for two people who were so very different, they were more alike than she could have ever imagined.

After all, I'm Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King. And you're Scary Sally, the doll who can single-handedly frighten away an entire town just by using her head." He bared his teeth menacingly. "They have no idea who they're dealing with." A chill spun down Sally's back as she caught the fierce look on Jack's face. It was the kind of swagger he usually reserved for Halloween night, and she had always been enthralled by it. That confidence! That conviction! That look that told her he seriously believed he could achieve anything--- if he just put his mind to it. And maybe Sally could, too.

But first I have to sew my leg back on. Properly this time, so it doesn't come apart again." She reached for her leg, her hands still shaking from residual adrenaline after their near escape. She hoped she'd be able to thread her needle. Jack placed a hand over her arm. "Allow me," he said, and Sally's eyes widened as he carefully aligned her lower leg with the stub of her knee. "I can do that---" she started. But Jack put a finger to her lips. "I know you can," he said, meeting her eyes with his own. "But right now your hands are still trembling from trying to help me up and I don't want you to hurt yourself. So why don't you just rest for a second? Allow me to make myself useful for once." He wagged a playful finger at her. "You don't get to save the day every time, you know." Sally tried to laugh, but it came out more like a choke as grateful tears began to well in her eyes. A part of her still wanted to argue, to insist she could do it herself. But then, Jack already knew that, didn't he? Even in the darkness she could see his confidence in her, reflected in his dark eyes. Sally had always hated when Dr. Finkelstein had sewed her back together. It made her feel weak. Helpless. Yet another thing he didn't trust her to do on her own. Another way to retain control. But Jack wasn't trying to control her, she realized. He was trying to help her. And wasn't it nice, sometimes, to lean on another? To trust that someone cared enough to do the job right?

This is why I needed you to come with me. Imagine if I had discovered this place all by myself. Who knows how much damage I'd have managed to do?" "I can't even imagine," Sally said. "Good thing you have me to keep you in line." "Good thing indeed," Jack said, reaching across the table and placing his hand over hers. His expression turned serious and when he met her eyes with his own, Sally's breath hitched. "Thank you for bringing me here," he said softly. "This was exactly what I needed." Sally nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She couldn't believe she'd almost chickened out and stayed behind. Missed out on this special day with Jack. Seeing the light in his eyes. Hearing the joy in his voice. Just the two of them together. No one knew where they were. No one knew what they were doing. And the only thing that mattered was that they were doing it together. Maybe she needed to face her fears more often...

Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly. She shook her head wordlessly. It did hurt a little, of course--- it always did. But so much less than when Dr. Finkelstein would carelessly jab his needle into her cloth, without caring how she was feeling or even if his stitches would hold for the long haul. But Jack was different. Meticulous. Gentle. And instead of feeling uncomfortable, she felt a strange warmth settle in her stomach.Soon Jack finished, giving her a shy smile as he tied off the last stitch. And from the look on his face, she realized he'd felt something, too. Maybe it wasn't exactly the same. Maybe not as strong. But something. Which made her feel even warmer.

She knew it too well, that terrible empty feeling that stemmed from loneliness. That desperate desire to be close to something--- someone. Someone who understood you. Someone who allowed you to be yourself without any strings attached. Perhaps, all along, it hadn't been freedom or adventure they'd truly craved that night in the graveyard, she thought suddenly. Perhaps it had been connection. She looked up, realizing Jack's face was near hers. He gave her a timid smile, reaching out to brush a lock of yarn from her eyes. Sally felt her leaves swirl, and her first instinct was to jerk away, laugh, break from the moment and make it all a joke. But no. That was the coward's way out. She needed to face her fears. To be the Sally she so desperately wanted to be. The Sally she saw reflected in Jack's dark eyes. "Jack..." she whispered. His name felt like a prayer on her lips. "Oh, Jack." "Sally..." Jack closed his eyes. Tilted his head. Began to lean closer.

She brought the hot chocolate slowly to her lips, breathing on it to cool it down before taking a sip. She sighed dreamily as the thick chocolate slid down her throat, sweet and delicious. "Yum," she said. "Try it again, Jack. You're going to like it." Jack did as he was told, this time taking a much smaller sip. His mouth curled to a grin as he set the cup back down. "Well, that's pretty good," he admitted. "It's like someone took a pile of Halloween candy and melted it down, then added milk." He sniffed the cup. "Thought it'd be better if they used the expired kind. Then we might get some actual curdles." He took another sip, managing to get a blob of whipped cream stuck in his fake beard. Sally giggled, then grabbed the rag to blot his face. "You're a mess," she teased. And he smiled back at her. "I know," he said. "But you love me anyway, right?" Sally felt her cheeks go red and she quickly grabbed her mug again, bringing it to her face to hide it. She knew Jack was just being silly. But the way he was smiling at her--- as if, in that very moment, she was the only other person in the world--- well, it felt far too lovely.

All those times she'd watched him waltz into town on Halloween night in all his pumpkin glory--- she'd always been so impressed. He'd been like a rock star to her, larger than life. But he was also just a simple guy, it turned out. With hopes and dreams and desires, just like everyone else. And she liked that Jack. Maybe even more than the illustrious Pumpkin King.

Oh, it is good to be home," he declared. And Sally agreed with him. There was so much she loved about Christmas Town. But Halloween Town was pretty great, too. And it was okay, she decided, to like both for what they were. If she learned anything from this adventure, it was that one thing didn't have to define you. You got to define yourself--- in any manner you saw fit.

So you really think these all represent different holiday lands?" he asked, pulling open the door with the large bird on it. "What do you think this one could be?" "A holiday to honor turkeys?" Sally guessed. Though somehow that didn't sound quite right. "Maybe," Jack mused. "But why would anyone want to honor a turkey? They're such dumb birds. Really, the only good thing to do is eat them." He closed the door, then headed over to the tree with the heart on it. "This one's probably Dissection Town," he decided. "They spend all year long harvesting organs, and one day a year they gather together to eat them." Sally made a face. "Or maybe it's Love Town?" she suggested. "And their holiday is filled with lots of romantic proclamations?" Jack looked disappointed by this idea. He moved on to the tree with the four-leafed plant. "Garden Town," he pronounced. "They're completely vegetarian. And they hate turkeys with a passion.

She settled down on the coffin-shaped couch against the wall, folding her hands in her lap. Jack held up a bony finger and retreated into an adjoining--- the kitchen, she realized as she took a peek--- then returned a moment later with a steaming cup of what turned out to be rotten mushroom tea. She took it from him gratefully, breathing in the salty scent before taking a long, deep swig. "So good," she murmured after she'd swallowed, then took a second sip. She hadn't realized how hungry and thirsty she'd been. The sugary snacks she'd eaten earlier hadn't filled her up. But this was the kind of cauldron concoction that stuck to your bones (if you had any, that was).

In the meantime, you should head home. People have seen you with us now. And if we go down, I don't want to take you with us." Tammy looked at her for a moment, then gave a grudging snort. "You're a brave toy," she said. "I'll give you that." She paused, then added, "Just be careful, all right? A lot of people underestimate Christmas Town. But nightmares can lie in the dreamiest of places." "Well, that's good," Sally declared, flashing Jack a look. "Because it just so happens we have a lot of experience with nightmares.

Funny thing about regrets. I don’t lament what I’ve done, but rather, what I didn’t do.

Oh, Jack," she whispered, leaning longingly against the gravestone. "I know how you feel." Suddenly there was a shift beneath her--- the gravestone crumbling under her added weight. She cried out in surprise, trying to move, but only managed to lose her balance in the process. She was flung from her hiding spot, tumbling forward into a wide-open space. And when she managed to look up again? She found herself staring straight into the eyes of Jack Skellington.

We could try something else..." she suggested, not wanting to bruise his ego along with his backside. But Jack only shook his head, his dark eyes glistening. "Are you kidding?" he cried. "I'm not letting some silly ice skates defeat me!" Of course you won't, Sally thought fondly, watching him scramble to his feet again, wobbling a bit but somehow managing to stay upright this time. Jack didn't let anything defeat him. It was one of the things she'd always admired about him.

Out of the three classes of music a harp could make, Jack preferred the lament. But he didn’t want to add to Frae’s sorrow. He should play either for joy or for slumber. Perhaps a mix of both. A song framed on hope.

Get rid of the D minor chords. They're too melancholy. Stop lamenting. And maybe you’re the one who needs to go home.

A GALWAY LAMENT You watched—through April from a place of forbearance … called fortitude.

…greatness flows from the creativity and overcoming that chaos and challenge inspires in the man whose Noble belief in his own worth drives him forward to demonstrate his potential and realize the miracle of his own godhood. If you cannot see the way, make the way. If you despise the world around you, do not lament the passing of a dream you never knew — dream the world that you want NOW. Begin from where you are. Dream a new world and impose it from above. Thrust your hands into the decaying soil, scoop it up and sculpt it — give it shape with all of your strength. Life was never fair and creation was never easy. Take the world you have and make the one you want. Be the god that gives it life. And if you don’t know where to start — if you have nothing but your own body — start there. Create and recreate yourself. Be the clay, and become your own dream. Not because you have to, or because it is needed or necessary, but because you want to. Why not? Isn’t that what the conqueror, the master and the first king says? “Why not me?” Why not be the creature who creates himself?

But when it was he who sat drooping and exhausted, there in front of me, when he'd done lamenting, I brought over the tub and returned the gift he gave me, I untied the shoes from his listless feet, then tugged off his socks, and I got on my knees in front of him and first the one foot, then the other, I washed, it came to me suddenly this washing of feet was truly the most beautiful thing to happen between us so far, as he humbled himself before me, so I also, before him, and I washed his feet, wishing to do that for as long as ever I could. I wiped his feet carefully, and he, toppling over me from the drink. Then I hauled off his sweater, him falling over on me, it was like undressing a corpse, I got the pants off, then the shorts, threw that body down, naked, onto the Union Jack my fiancé used as a bedspread, he splayed his legs and lay on his back, completely relaxed, and went to sleep.